


When Peter Met Johnny

by Measured



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: longfic_bingo, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Photography, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter takes up additional paparazzi work to pay the bills, which inevitably leads to an angry flaming man, a broken camera, an accidental friendship and a whole lot more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Peter Met Johnny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traincat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traincat/gifts).



> First I was just going to mention that this was AU, but somewhere along the line it became its own continuity. It borrows a little from a few universes that I like, tends to keep couples together and keep people _alive_ , and has a lot of slash. Basically it's like Marvel Adventures + some plot aspects of Young Avengers + some 616 + the better aspects of ult + a bucketload more slash. It also is on eternal DC/Marvel crossover, for extra Batman jokes. I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Since this is obviously Ammy's fault somehow, it's hers. Happy birthday, giiiirl. It's kind of your winter holiday gift, too, because it's so big. She also betaed it, and was the best damn beta it could've had, with tons of notes on obscure characterization and continuity notes I would've completely missed. 
> 
> Finally, if anything slipped through, it's my my fault. There was a formatting issue from the file I was reading which made it hard to read some parts.

Clubs weren't Peter's scene. Seriously. He'd rather dig into a tub of ice cream and watch Audrey Hepburn movies with aunt May before he put on mesh tops and leather and shimmed his butt into the night. But Jameson said he wanted super hero drama of the night and he was going to damn well get it because Peter liked eating and not living in a box in an alley. See, being a super hero didn't really _pay_. Some people managed to have that going for them, but Spiderman got blasted in the press so much that he had many outstanding fines and cases against him. So it was like _negative pay_.

Plus, he hadn't even gotten any funds from those horrible movie trilogy they filmed about him. The script was horrid, really, the guy had no sense of humor, and looked vaguely like a Hobbit. If he was going to be in a movie which he never saw a bit of money from while they stole his life story, the least they could've done was get it right.

Anyway, Peter would've stuck out like a sore thumb if he tried to wear what he usually did. For him, it was t-shirts and jeans, maybe a shirt underneath or a flannel shirt if it was cold. But today? It was leather. Pleather, actually. No animal cruelty and all. His target of the night was She-Hulk, which was only making it worse because he really wouldn't like her when she was angry and tearing him limb from limb.

Not a ton of people liked journalists, but nobody liked the paparazzi. They were universally loathed as vultures picking at carrion and guess what? He just joined the photojournalist version of the Evil League of Evil.

His life was going grand, thanks.

It seemed some weird karma that he was the one harping on other super heroes, even if he was technically only the photographer. Peter felt a little seedy selling out his own. And in pleather pants, to boot. But, aunt May needed her medications somehow. It wasn't his fault that Jameson suddenly wanted to 'garner more interest' by turning the paper into something like the super hero version of those celeb gossip mags.

There were a few non-super hero (or at least not that he could tell) couples grinding on the floor, in dayglo colors that bared a lot of skin. Clothes that were probably really expensive too, for what little material was there. The music was a driving industrial beat and was killing his ears. Improved senses were really not helping here. All he could think (besides _oh man, what am I doing here?_ ) was that this must be how Daredevil felt. 

Peter was sure that he was sticking out. What was he supposed to do? Mingle? He flashed a grin at a girl with blue lipstick to match her spiky hair.

"Hi. Nice party, eh?"

She glared at him, flipped him the finger and moved on down the line.

So much for that.

The thing was, it was hard to sneak a camera in here, considering that the clothes had to be skintight. Nothing said 'I peddle drugs and/or am a secret evil photojournalist' than a giant duffle bag. It also harshed the cool. Not to mention that even if he had found someone, there was a large chance that in this lighting it'd be little more than a blur of shadowy figures. Maybe that'd cut it in the art gallery, but Jameson would not be pleased. It was possible that those higher-end new models could do something about it, but those cost money. Money that he did not have and would not have unless he ratted out on the lives of his fellow super heroes. 

Ok, now he just looked like a giant narc. Giving up for the minute, Peter slipped out a side door and into an ally. The music was thankfully, a dull roar out there. He ran his hands through his hair and put his lens cap back on. Maybe he could catch a bit of traditional super hero actual crime fighting–or do more of the Spiderman line. He might be able to even find a drunk girl to lean against to imply that Spiderman knew how to party, before he drove her home to make sure that nobody hurt her. Because that's what partying was to Peter—being the designated driver and a general wet blanket all around. He could just see the headline "Spiderman Takes Advantage Of Drunk Girl–Possible Statutory Rape!"

Yeah, that plan might have to be put aside.

Out of nowhere, he heard a giggle, a whisper, and a moan.

Peter looked up to see a couple out there, partly cloaked by the shadows that he hadn't noticed before. He stepped back in surprise, and his lens cap fell off and clattered on the ground. He really needed to get a new one, as it'd been warped ever since his last showdown with Electro. It was hard to get camera equipment that was fireproof, waterproof, shock proof and impervious to psychic attacks. Asking for this on customer service would get long silences, and then _Would you like the extra chainsaw, and crazed reindeer protections as well?_

They grew quiet, and stopped in their making out. Romancing. Whatever. 

So much for him not being noticed.

"Wait a second, babe," the man said.

Peter scrambled for the lens cap in the dark. Too late, as it was crushed under the man's foot. Before him was all Johnny Storm, Peter knew him from all the newscasts, of course. Everyone knew Johnny Storm. Everyone loved Johnny Storm. Hating Johnny Storm was like hating kittens–doing so immediately branded you some kind of monster. He wore a tight shirt with dayglo flames on it, and pleather (or was it leather?) pants without looking like a complete fraud. It was really no surprise that Johnny made leather look _good._

But Johnny Storm didn't look too happy at the moment. In fact, he was frowning pretty hard. Uh-oh. That was generally not a good side–at least, not if you were on the evil paparazzi side.

"I've got a bone to pick with you. What's with this article that writes me off as a player?"  
He thrust his thumb to his chest. "Johnny Storm doesn't cheat."

He might change girlfriends every week, but for all seven days, he was pure fidelity.

Peter watched in horror as Johnny Storm grabbed his camera away. "Just give me the film and we can go our separate ways."

The camera began to bubble. Peter could only watch as it turned into mush. Johnny looked in surprised–he hadn't even flamed on, but apparently his temper had changed the temperature enough to make Peter's camera into a liquid. He'd had memories with that camera. It'd been his first one when he started being Spiderman. It'd gotten a lot of scratches along the way, but it had proven sturdy and been with him thick and thin.

And now, the camera was gone.

He stared down at the goo. Johnny's clothes weren't even steaming from the temperature change. Of course Reed Richards would engineer some form of flame retardant clothes for him. Of course there wasn't a mark on him, not even a bit of soot, and his hair wasn't even mussed–more than it was when he started, at least.

"Whoops, sorry about that, though you should think about your choices. Go shoot some pictures of a rainforest or something instead. Now, where were we, babe?" 

He had not idea how he was going to bring food in. He might be able to call in a favor with Tony Stark if it got real rough, but he didn't want to rely on charity. After all, Tonk Stark had pretty much bribed him out of super heroing until he at least hit legal age. But for aunt May, he'd set aside that pride–but only as a last resort. Peter shuffled home in the dark, from each pool of streetlight all the way home. He couldn't spare cab fare like this. He wasn't sure where his next paycheck was going to come from at this rate, given that Jameson would fire him for sure.

Yeah, he was pretty much doomed.

*

Peter called in sick, which didn't get him an _aww, feel better,_ but a long winded rant by Jameson. He might have mentioned briefly that his camera was now a puddle of goo outside a ritzy nightclub and his assignment wasn't really coming along and that didn't help. At all. Peter pulled the covers over his head and ignored life a little more. Tomorrow he'd have to go face Jameson, find a new camera and try and not lose his job in the process. And that was altogether more tricky than it should have been.

He wasn't sure how it would happen, but he would find a way.

There was a knock at the door. Or maybe on the door of aunt May's soaps. He wasn't quite sure, and he really didn't care at this point. The vacuum salesmen could just go suck it.

"Peter, get the door!"

Okay, not soaps then. 

"Not feeling up to it, aunt May. I'm sick, remember?" 

She said something else, probably more to herself than anyone else and shuffled out to see. He heard a happy cry, and figured it was some friend from bridge club or something.

There was a knock at his door. Peter pulled his quilt up over his head and tried to shut the world out. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

"Peter, there's a nice young man to see you."

"Tell him I'm sick," Peter said.

"There's a _nice young man_ to see you, now don't keep him waiting out there," aunt May said.

Peter sighed and threw the covers off. He tried not to focus on that it just sounded like aunt May was trying to set him up with a guy. He padded to the door and looked blearily out. There was Johnny Storm, sunkissed and looking like some superstar. He wasn't in pleather (or leather) anymore, but in casual jeans that were most definitely _not_ loose and a rather form-fitting black shirt with a flame emblazoned on the front. No pun intended.

He flashed a winning grin at Peter. He had _dimples_. It was already criminal that he got the looks, the charms, the power and the popularity–he also had to have a pain of irresistible pair of dimples too. Peter didn't return the grin, and thought briefly of closing the door in his face and his adorable dimples, and going back to bed.

"Superman pajamas. Nice," he said.

"They were a gift," Peter said flatly. From aunt May, actually.

"Also, nice bedhead. It usually takes me some hair gel to get that effect. I approve."

"What do you want?" Peter said.

"Well, see. Sue chewed me out last night so I decided to make it up for you and buy you a new camera."

"Really?" Peter said hopefully, yet a little guarded.

"Really. Here you go."

He handed over a little instant disposable camera, the kind tourists used. With this Spiderman, and most anything else he'd try and photograph would be little more than a blip, a blackbird on the horizon.

"Er, gee, I'm speechless," Peter said.

Johnny pulled out his cell phone and snapped a shot.

"What the–"

Johnny cracked up. "You should have seen your face! Seriously, it was priceless."

"That's so funny I forgot to laugh," Peter said.

Johnny just grinned. Peter rocked back on his heels.

"Listen, I don't exactly like my job. When I went into photojournalism, I didn't think 'hey, a job in stalking super heroes! This is a dream come true!' Besides, that wasn't me. I didn't even do that shot, and I don't write those articles. I never asked for this, okay? I know that Jameson doesn't always take too kindly to super heroes and I think the articles are trash, but I'm not a multi-millionaire and have my aunt to take care of. I don't get to choose what I take if I want to eat."

"Yeah, Sue and Reed informed me of that. Sorry," Johnny said. He clapped Peter on the shoulder. "I'm just something of a hothead. Anyways, I did try and buy you one, but I didn't know a thing about them. Get dressed and I'll take you and buy you a new one for real. I'll even let you keep the instant one."

"Gee, thanks." 

"Also, I'd advise getting dressed unless you want to make a fashion statement. 'Just Rolled Out of Bed' chic. Or maybe geek."

Peter snorted. "Just let me shower. Ten minutes and I'll be down." 

"No problem," Johnny said. He was so smooth, it should be illegal. In some solar systems, it probably was.

*

It wasn't since Tony Stark that he'd seen someone make an effort to be so charming to his aunt. Or maybe it wasn't an effort–maybe Johnny was as full of charm as he was fire, so that it just came out naturally.

The time Tony Stark had visited his little cubbyhole had been pretty nerve racking. Tony ate fancy dishes that cost more than he made in a month–a _year_ probably, and he ate generic brand mac and cheese at their table. (Which was a little dirty. Aunt May wasn't as spry as she used to be and holding down two jobs plus the super hero gig pretty much got him out of household chores). But Tony had actually acted like he cared about aunt May's bridge club and said that the food she'd offered him was delicious.

Of course how Tony Stark had actually gotten there– _that_ was a story. A really long one that involved him sort of getting found out by Captain America and Iron Man and sort of being told that he was 'way too young' for this kind of thing by Captain America who was afraid that his grades would suffer, not that it'd kept him from being grounded, in every since possible. That had been years ago, but they still kept an eye on him. Peter had to admit that he felt a little special having both Iron Man _and_ Captain America on his speed dial. It was about the only thing going for him at the moment, given super heroing didn't exactly have dental benefits.

Johnny slid into his house just as easily as Tony had. He didn't blow off aunt May, or their dinky house in the dinky, uncool Queens, even if he could be better places. Aunt May had already introduced Peter, told Johnny most of Peter's life story, complete with those embarrassing things that relatives never forgot. It wasn't even that she was that chatty, it was just that Johnny could make anyone spill their life story with a smile. She pushed over a pot of tea, and Johnny took a sip.

"Why, thank you. He's lucky to have an aunt as kind _and_ pretty as you. What are you, thirty?" Johnny said with a winning grin.

Aunt May laughed, obviously very pleased. "Oh, I assure you, I'm much older. But thank you for indulging this old woman."

Peter could only stare in horror. This wasn't happening. Just _no_. When aunt May turned answer the telephone, Peter shot him a scandalized and traumatized look.

"Are you seriously hitting on my aunt May?" Peter said.

"It's all good," Johnny said. "Women her age never get a compliment. She deserves it."

"Ok, house rules: number one: No hitting on my aunt May. Number two: _No hitting on my aunt May_ I thought that should be obvious, but apparently to you it isn't."

Johnny leaned back with careless ease. "You're the boss."

"Yes, well, as your temporary boss, I say we get out of here before I'm scarred for life."

"Sure thing, boss," Johnny said.

*

He felt like a kid in a candy store, on Christmas, being told _sure honey, pick out whatever you want._ This was the kind of store he had to avoid because one look would bring wistful thoughts that were never going to come to anything. For his love with the 4K RED One Camera, which had a lovely 12,065,000 pixel resolution, and could really capture the intensity of a super hero in flight. 

"Anything? This stuff is expensive," Peter said, cautiously. "Really expensive. _Tony Stark_ expensive."

"Go ahead, get whatever you need. It can't be worse than one of my past girlfriends. She cleaned me out whenever possible. Sue had a talk with me about not ruining my credit for a girl who won't last the month and when I didn't listen, she cut up my cards. By the time I'd applied for new ones, the girl ditched me for some richer super villain guy."

Johnny said it casually, as if he were shrugging it off, so apparently he wasn't too heartbroken.  
Peter never had two pennies to spare on some high class girlfriend, so he couldn't really empathize. The only woman he ever spent money on was aunt May. MJ and Gwen hadn't even counted as half the time, they bought their own ice cream cones, and possibly his as well if his part times had gone slim that time.

But Johnny Storm, being himself didn't linger on awkward subjects long. He picked up an expensive camcorder. "I wonder if this thing is on."

"Hey, don't drop that! They'll kick us out, I don't want to be banned from the awesome camera store for life," Peter said.

"Hey, don't worry, Pete. They know me here, or at least they will, soon."

Johnny had it lucky like that. If Spiderman showed up, they'd assume he was going to rob the place, and maybe kick some puppies while he was at it.

Johnny put the camcorder to his eye. "I can see youuu, Peter Parker. You're in my heaad! And this magical box–"

A professional looking young woman with her brown hair in a tight bun cleared her throat. She reeked matronly librarian does camera store.

"Can I _help_ you?"

"I told you," Peter hissed and shot Johnny a glare.

Johnny took the camcorder down and flashed the woman a blinding trademark Johnny Storm grin.

"See, my bud here needs a camera as I sort of accidentally fried his. Also a camcorder. So can you show me the best stuff you've got? Money isn't an issue here. You look like you know a lot about cameras, like you took a college course in selling them. I'm glad you came up to us."

Her disapproving expression turned softer. In fact, she seemed downright flattered. Then again, Johnny had that way with people. Man, he could probably melt Frosty Icicleman's cool. Not to be mistaken with Iceman.

"Right this way, sir," she said.

Johnny shot Peter a satisfied smile. It wasn't quite smug, but it was like smug's less annoying younger brother. Peter rolled his eyes heavenward. Next he'd probably be telling her that she looked young. Come to think of it, this was quite a bit like the time Tony took him out to eat. Except Tony's tale of ex-girlfriends had involved him being thrown off a yacht, shot at, stabbed three times and strung from the ceiling, naked. _Still_ , there was a definite resemblance here.

Peter wondered idly if Johnny and Tony had met yet. He had a feeling they'd get along.

*

Peter flinched when he had first seen the price tag, but Johnny had been nonplused, and even asked for more expensive accessories, and a nice warranty. Johnny even got them to ship the packages right to his house, no extra charges. Nothing was too far for Johnny Storm, He of the Magical Dimples.

Outside Peter felt a bit lightheaded. Spending money in vast amounts also did that. It always came to mind that with this much money, he could buy groceries for six months, all of aunt May's medications, _and_ keep from losing the house for a little while longer. Whenever he ate with Tony, he just made him pick the food and tried not to think that the entree probably cost as much as the budget of a small nation.

Johnny patted him on the back.

"You okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. It's just Miseritis. Spending money in vast amounts creates an allergic reaction in my body where I suddenly remember every bill from the past year," Peter said.

"That must be bad. Do they make a cream for it?" Johnny said.

"None that I've found. I mean, not that I'm not thankful, I'm just—"

Johnny waved his hands. " Whoa, whoa. No apologizing. It's no problem. Really. We're even now, and hopefully your boss will assign you back to Spiderman again. Because that's classy stuff."

"Oh, yeah," Peter said, as if it were nothing. "I photograph Spiderman all the time. I think he's in my neighborhood."

Johnny looked pleased. "Really? Lucky you. I'll have to hang out there some time. So we can fight crime together and all."

"Er. Yeah. I'm sure he'd like that. In general. And all." 

"You really think so?" Johnny said.

"Probably, it's not like I have him on speed-dial," Peter said. 

"Yeah, he's a pretty hard guy to get a hold of. None of the Avengers know anything about him," Johnny said casually. Too casually. Like he'd spent some time researching this.

"Yep. I bet he never spent any time with them, he's a total lone wolf, that one," Peter said.

Fingers crossed behind his back. Yep, Spiderman worked alone. Nobody knew who he was or gave him directions. Technically he was only on the phone with Cap that one time.

Peter's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten breakfast before he left (much to aunt May's chagrin) and somehow it'd become noon. Time passed so fast around Johnny, it was almost like an addition to his powers. Or maybe it was the charm. Or the dimples. 

"Let's go eat. I can't have you going hungry. It'd ruin my image," Johnny said.

Peter shook his head. "I'm flattered, but you've done enough for me. I think we're even. At this rate, I probably owe _you_ a favor. I don't think you need help with your science homework, with Reed Richards as a brother-in-law, so if you ever need wedding or baby photos, just call me." 

"No, no, I insist. There's this place near here I love. They have these amazing cheesy fries–seriously, they're the best ever. They're so good, you have not lived until you have tasted these fries."

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" Peter said.

"Exactly," Johnny said.

Johnny whistled for a taxi. One came a whole lot faster than it would have for Peter...if he actually had money for taxies.

They sidled in, and Johnny called out a destination. Peter looked out the window.

"Hey now, don't be shy," Johnny said. It was like he put on extra charm today and used all of it on Peter. "Tell me about your day."

"Well, some weirdo flaming guy wrecked my only way of making money last night, I thought I was for sure going to be fired this time, and then that same guy pulled me out of bed to go camera shopping. Oh, and he hit on my aunt as well."

"You forgot to mention my cute dimples," Johnny said with a winning grin.

Peter rolled his eyes. "That's all you got out of the conversation?"

"Well, I knew some of it," Johnny admitted. "But you never know. I've saved the world on noon on a Sunday and had to save a cat from a tree before Monday rolled around."

"I don't really have an interesting life," Peter said. "No ancient space gods, no alternate dimensions or anything like that."

 _That I can tell you about,_ he amended mentally.

"Oh, come on. Photographing the young and the super heroic? Sounds pretty classy to me," Johnny said.

"Mostly it just gets people hating me and wrecking my equipment."

"Don't worry about it, I'll hit you up with some of the flame resistant stuff he puts on my clothes. Then even I can't fry it–you'd have to throw it into the sun to get it to melt at any rate," Johnny said.

"Like that would ever happen," Peter said.

Never mind last Friday with the whole interstellar plot. That didn't involve cameras, thankfully.

*

Johnny went to the place–a low scale place, like Mom-and-Popdonalds. Johnny raised his arms, and several of the customers cheered. He leaned down to greet people, hug people and generally bask in the attention. Apparently he was a regular. Or just an attention whore. Or both. 

He fell into a booth–really fell, and not the 'slip-on-wet-floors' falling, but the 'I'm-so-relaxed-here' falling.'

To be fair, the seats were insanely comfortable. They looked totally tacky ugly teal color—not that tackiness ever bothered Peter, he was wearing a beat blue up t-shirt and flannel, after all.

Johnny waved at the waitress. She was a middle-aged woman, stocky and short, with enough hairspray in her beehive to keep it in place forever. She broke into a big smile when she saw them come in.

"Hey Doris, the usual, and make it for two, thanks!" 

"Why, if it isn't Johnny Storm. I haven't seen you since you were off trying to impress that girl, can't remember her name."

"We aren't a thing anymore, but I'm showing my new buddy Pete around to the best place in all of New York," Johnny said.

"Oh, you big flatterer, you," Doris said.

He was considered a buddy already? That was news to him. Or maybe that was just his codeword to tell Doris _this isn't a date, really._

Peter took a long drink of the complimentary water and watched the waitresses out of the corner of his eye. Johnny folded his hands on the table and considered Peter.

"So, you already probably know about me. Or, if not, I could lecture you at length about everything for the last twenty years. Your choice," Johnny said.

"You? Talk about yourself? _Never_ ," Peter said in mock surprise.

"What can I say? People keep asking. I wouldn't want to let them down."

A plate of fries was put before them. They were piping hot, and smelled delicious.

"Wow, that was fast," Peter said.

"We serve the fastest and best in the whole city, especially to our favorite repeat customers," Doris said. The lines at the corners of her face crinkled as she gave him a big smile.

"You're a real prize, Doris," Johnny said. She giggled as she left, with an _oh, you_.

"Here, here, have some–" He pushed the cheesy fries in Peter's face.

"Open up, unless you want it in your nose."

"Mm, nosefries," Peter said. But he complied, and had to admit they were good. Amazing, even. Spicy, but not too spicy, with high quality cheese all fitting together to a really great taste. Peter was sure he could clean off five of these, no sweat.

"Hey, it can be arranged. I see your nosefries and raise you a nosespoon." 

Then Johnny honestly put a spoon on his nose, like he was a child. And it was still hilarious, because Johnny was making silly faces, adorable faces and stupid noises and _dammit why was he laughing?_

Apparently Johnny just had that effect on people.

"Also, Sue invited you for dinner," Johnny said.

"Why did we just go get something to eat if I'm invited to dinner?"

"Because I wanted you to actually have something edible. Over there it'll be whole grain bread and vegetable stew, with extra veggies–when Reed doesn't have us on the raw food diet and _wheatgrass_." Johnny shuddered at the memory.

"I don't suppose I can wriggle out of this one?" Peter said.

Johnny threw his arm over Peter's shoulder. "Not a chance. Sue will yell at me again. I'd rather face Galactus again than be yelled at by Sue."

Then again, he didn't really _want_ to refuse because he was _dining with the freaking Fantastic Four_. To say that Peter idolized them was like saying that an ocean was a little wet.

"I just have to call aunt May and tell her to not expect me for dinner."

"Go on," Johnny said.

Peter dug in his pocket for spare change.

"Okay, you seriously aren't telling me that you don't have a cell phone. Are you some sort of time traveler from the eighties, or do you just hate technology?"

"I was filming Batman and he wrecked some of my gear. You know, protective Batdaddy who doesn't want more Nightwing drama in the tabloids," Peter said.

"That'd do it," Johnny said. "Pretty badass for you to withstand the Batglare, though."

Peter shrugged. "It wasn't that bad, he has the no killing creed and all."

"Yeah, but that just means he'll make you wish you were dead," Johnny said. 

That was an understatement. Facing down an angry Batman was one of the most terrifying moments in his life. The worst thing was that he'd been so calm about it as he tore the camera from Peter's hands and pulled out the film to expose it to the light, and then gone on to imply that should this happen again, Peter would _regret_ it. 

It wasn't exactly something that Peter liked to remember.

"Here, borrow mine," Johnny said. "In fact, you can keep it. I just got a new one this morning."

"Are you sure, I mean...." Peter looked at the phone. It was filled with numbers of ex-girlfriends and girlfriends and maybe booty calls.

"Yeah well, the girl wasn't looking for anything serious," Johnny said. He looked more than a little perturbed at this. "I really liked her, too. I'm bad at deleting numbers, so I've started just getting new phones when things go wrong. It's better than looking back and having to remember, seeing old texts she sent, you know?"

"That must be pretty expensive," Peter said.

Johnny shrugged. "I can afford it. Anyways, it's a good thing. When Sue lectures me, I'll just say my cell was given for a better cause," Johnny said. 

"Like me not getting fired," Peter said.

"Exactly!" Johnny said. "Anyways, when you're done, I'll program my number in so you can ring us up if you ever have any cats stuck in trees, ancient space gods knocking on your door or have a Spiderman sighting. I would so pay top dollar for photos."

"I'll keep that in mind," Peter said with a slight smile.

"Seriously, if there's a Spiderman showering sighting, call me," Johnny said with a wink.

Maybe it was telling that for a moment, Peter honestly considered how much groceries he could get just from showering with his mask on. Of course, it was just a second, one which later had him horrified. He really had joined the Evil League Of Evil when it came to photojournalism.

But of course, Johnny was just kidding...right?

Right?

*

"Dinner is ready, dear," Sue said.

"Just one more modification and I'll–"

Sue cleared her throat. "Dinner is specially made with the vitamins you need, and aren't you always saying 'cognitive function deceases when hungry' as why someone should never skip breakfast?"

"You're completely right," Reed said. He smiled, and she kissed him, light and quick, a public kiss. His hand lingered at her back.

"Besides, we have company," she said.

"Oh yes, that one boy that Johnny mentioned."

"Johnny wrecked his equipment without thinking to ask. I can get his Paparazzi hate, but he can't just wreck the poor boy's things," Sue said.

"Otherwise we'd get the same sort of press Spiderman gets," Reed said.

"Yes. That. And mostly because it's a _good thing to do,_ " she said pointedly.

"That too," he said.

Reed seemed lost in motion for a moment, transfixed by a bit of new data.

She sighed in a sort of exasperated yet affectionate way.

"Ten more minutes and it'll be ready. Please finish your calculations by then," Sue said.

She was used to having to share her husband with science.

*

Mr. Fantastic was working on something that looked like a large Bond villain death ray, but _probably_ wasn't. It made Peter instantly glad that the guy was on their side. Who knows what would happen if he wasn't? 

The table was of some material which must have been custom made by Mr. Fantastic. Peter tested it while he was waiting, tapping his fingers all along the surface. It was like teflon, like a lot of the Fantasticave (as Johnny called it) which apparently was sturdy, fireproof, rock monster proof, not to mention easily cleaned. 

"This stuff is great. Once I attached a ball of slimy stuff I made up to the ceiling, and bounced it right into Ben's face."

Peter snickered despite himself.

"This table is pretty interesting," Peter said.

"It's a compound I made as he kept destroying furniture," Mr. Fantastic

"He pretty much had to make the whole place out of it. I'm too sexy for this Fantasticave with my explosive personality and all," Johnny said. He even did a pelvic thrust which distracted Peter so much that he couldn't even make a witty science related response. 

"Those first few days were rough," Mr. Fantastic said wryly, with a pointed glance Johnny's way.

Sue came in, but Peter was distracted by the figures drawn on a clear wall thing and _hot damn_ were those some fine calculations. He just had to stare. Mr. Fantastic sure could bring the science to the yard. It was way better than Peter's.

"This is the formula?" Peter said.

"Oh, yes. It's quite fascinating, actually—" Mr. Fantastic said.

"—No it isn't," Johnny said. "You better run, Pete. _He'll talk your ear off._ "

"Actually, I'm pretty interested," Peter said.

"Well, the first compound—" Mr. Fantastic said.

"Sue, science is stealing away my bro," Johnny said.

"Join the club," Sue said with a smile.

"I never thought I'd be joining Science Widows Anonymous," Johnny said.

"Neither did I," Sue said, with a fondness in her voice as she watched them go over the board together.

"It's time for a science break, boys. Dinner is going to be ready soon," Sue said.

Peter looked up, startled away, and Mr. Fantastic pushed up his goggles. "It looks like we should take a break. Perhaps later?"

"How about never?" Johnny said. "Seriously, stop using science's seductive wiles to steal my bro!"

Peter shrugged, and gave Mr. Fantastic an embarrassed smile. "Another time, maybe," he said.

"Another time," Mr. Fantastic said.

As everyone left, Peter took one last surreptitious glance to the formula. He pulled out his new high tech phone, complete with camera. Peter felt a little guilty, but what the Fantastic Four didn't know wouldn't hurt them. And it wasn't like he'd sell it. It was just... something like that could come in handy. And Peter could use all the breaks he could get.

*

Johnny apparently earned an A in hyperbole, as dinner was not, in fact, made of wheatgrass special with extra tofu that tasted like packing peanuts, but quite good. Peter could not have identified it if he had his microscope handy, but it was almost as good as the cheese fries. And to be fair, those were tainted with the fact that nothing could top how much fun he'd had eating them with Johnny.

Though the dinner came pretty close.

It was honestly pretty amazing to just sit at a table with the Fantastic Four bantering around him like they'd known him for way more than the hour or so they did. It was like a great big superhero family which he had suddenly been inducted too, more homey than the Avengers, and also with more science.

But it was all over too quickly, and soon Peter found himself at the door feeling oddly let down that the day was nearly over already.

"So, I better be calling a cab home," Peter said.

"Oh man, no way. I am taking you home," Johnny said.

"Really, it's no big deal—"

"You think I'm letting you get mugged after all this? Not a chance. If you get mugged, I'm punching them in the face. _With fire._ "

"Well, I can never say no to flaming face punches that aren't aimed at me for once," Peter said.

Never mind that if any mugger took him on, he could probably take care of himself. It felt nice being taken care of by dashing almost-strangers every once in a while.

He followed Johnny out to the Fantastic garage, where Johnny pointed to this amazing red T-bird. Peter let out a low whistle. He hadn't seen a car this fine since that one fateful limo ride with Tony Stark that essentially got him banned from super heroing for a while. There really was no way to explain it other than saying _"Tony Stark played the cool dad after Cap grounded me until I was eighteen."_ It was kind of a long story.

Johnny pushed the unlock button, and they hopped in, except that only Johnny's was literal hopping. He even put on a pair of dark shades, which put him somewhere between really cool and really ridiculous.

It was sort of like his life had become a Taylor Swift song overnight. It was when he was going up the steps with that giddy, walking on air feeling that Peter had to stop and ask himself _Did I just technically go on a date with Johnny Storm?_

*

So Peter went to work. The new camera– _cameras_ were excellent quality, and put his last one to shame. Of course, taking pictures of himself sort of made him feel like the Facebook version of a super hero, but it was also a challenge, in a sense. If there was an Olympics event for timed photography, he'd probably at least snag the bronze. Maybe even the silver.

*

Peter was crunching numbers in his head as he wandered into the local bank he visited. It wasn't quite as large as some of those other places, like Goliath Grand National Bank. No doubt it'd probably be eaten by Goliath sometime soon, but for now he knew all the people there and always had. So had aunt May and Uncle Ben. This wasn't a day to refill his rapidly dwindling bank account, no this was a day to try and make those pennies go a little farther. Payday wasn't quite there yet, and things certainly weren't getting any cheaper. 

There were a pair of guys who were making Peter a bit nervous. His senses were telling him that they were bad news, really bad news, but he'd not brought his suit with him. Still, he could...threaten to take their picture badly which would ruin their chances of getting on a reality tv show! And these were the type of guys who looked like they really desired that fifteen minutes of unscripted fame.

Peter heard someone, loud behind him, talking on a cell phone of all things. He turned around going to glare at the insensitive jerk, only to find a ver familiar face. Not to mention a familiar pair of dimples when he got recognized. 

"Peter! My man!" He clapped him on the shoulder. Johnny really was a touchy guy. Also, it never had the sort of pulling back no homo that most straight manly hugs had. Johnny was apparently very comfortable in his sexuality.

"Yeah, funny meeting you here, uh, there's this thing–"

"No getting out of it. Right after I get some cash, there's this place I have to show you. It's amazing, trust me," Johnny said.

"Yeah there's kind of this _thing_ , about to happen and–"

Peter felt it, insistent, beating in him, as he heard the sound of something being removed. _A gun. They have guns_ He swallowed nervously. Of course they did, what did he think? They were going to ask nicely for everyone's savings?

"You're kind of wound up today. Something up?"

"It's... It's about to."

It was pure instinct. He could feel the gun being lifted. He tackled Johnny to the floor as the first shot rang out.

He didn't have long to note the fact that he was _on top of Johnny_ , or how good that split-second touch against Johnny's chest felt. Peter was up and off running towards the pair. He swung and hit one in the shoulder, and barely had a moment before he realized there was a whole lot more of them than he thought. He elbowed another, and flipped around to kick the gun from the third.

But there was another guy, wearing a bandana over the lower half of his face, like this was some old west stickup. He caught Peter right in the gut with a punch which made him curl up to the floor, a sickening burning sensation in his stomach. Before he'd even managed to catch his breath, there was another kick to the ribs.

_"Pete!"_

In a second, Johnny was in front of him in all his flaming glory. The guys were scattered, burn marks on their clothes.

"Now that's crossing a line, punk. No more mister nice guy."

"That's a pretty bad line," Peter said hoarsely. He coughed.

"I got plenty more where that came from," Johnny said.

The last one was a bigger guy who had more than a passing resemblance to the Kingpin. Illegitimate child, maybe? Behind him was a few more guys. Peter didn't exactly have enough time to take stock. 

"Hey, Pete, Leave them to me," Johnny said. He pushed Peter back a bit, as if to take any of the hypothetical bullets for him. 

Peter reached to the side of his bag. Whatever Reed had put on the camera really did make it about indestructible.

"Mind if I get this? I could really use some extra points with Jameson right now," Peter said.

"Go ahead, just be sure to get my good side," Johnny said, with a grin.

Then it was flame on, and Peter was taking picture after picture. The robbers were either very brave, or very stupid, as they didn't completely run the other way after seeing a guy burst into flames. In fact, they were pretty nonchalant. Mooks really were made of tougher stuff these days.

The guys pulled out their guns and started shooting round after round into where Johnny's stomach would have been, had it not been, you know, _on fire._ Johnny's flames burnt up high, and the guys acted like it wasn't a simple fact of science that shooting metal things at Johnny would only leave you with a puddle of metal goop on the floor.

"My turn," Johnny said.

"Try not to burn down the whole place while you're at it," Peter said.

"I'll take it into consideration," Johnny said as he sent a guy flying with the seat of his pants steaming.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Johnny said and made a pose ripe for the camera.

"So, Spontaneous Combustion Man had to be one of your first thoughts for a name," Peter said.

"Oh come on, Pete," Johnny said.

"I can just keep them coming, Firefly. Or should I call you Firebug?"

"'Awesome' is what you should call me, because that's exactly what I am."

He moved so fast that it was just a flurry of punches, of flames all spread out. He was way out of these low life's leagues, and it didn't take much to kick them to the curb. 

It was amazing, really. He might get a promotion.

Wishful thinking, but it was really just that good.

Then, it was flame off and Johnny brushed himself off like it was nothing. The room smelled of smoke, people were clapping and the bad guys? Their clothes were definitely more sporting the charcoal look, and at the moment they weren't going to be doing much more than groaning until the cops took them away.

"Not bad, not bad at all," Johnny said, as he surveyed the bank, which had a lot more scorch marks than before. 

"Are you okay there?" Johnny said.

"Me? I'm fine. I got way worse in high school," Peter said.

Thanks to the spider-healing, or whatever you'd call it. It wasn't that bad an injury, anyways.

"Good to hear. How did the photos turn out, Pete?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I bet they'll be a real sensation. Now _this_ —this is a piece I'd like to do. Something real and gritty, not snooping into some super hero's love life," Peter said.

"It's nice to see something flattering of me in the papers for once," Johnny said.

"Hah, imagine how _Spiderman_ feels," Peter said.

"I think he really does get a bad rap. Though it's pretty sexy," Johnny said thoughtfully.

Peter cleared his throat. He was saved from having to reply when Johnny offered his hand and helped Peter up.

"Where did you learn to tackle like that?" Johnny said.

"I was a nerd in high school. If I didn't learn to hit back, I was going to be shoved in the locker," Peter said. If super heroing had taught him anything, it was to be quick on the improvisation. 

"You should join our side. You've definitely got the skills. I can just see it now: Nerdman, my personal sidekick."

"There already is a Nerdman–His name is Mr. Fantastic. Besides. Sorry, no can do. I'm already on the dark side, remember? First, paparazzi, then I'll move up to jaywalking, not tipping waiters and eventually there will be a giant laser pointed at Australia."

"Too bad. The offer still stands if you ever want to fight crime with me. Even if you don't have superpowers, sometimes all you need is a really good left hook. I mean, look at Iron Man."

"Iron Man's special power is money and science geekery," Peter said.

"And Batman?"

"Gadgets and presumably, money to fund those gadgets," Peter said. "And actually having money is one of those super powers I just can't seem to have."

Johnny patted him on the shoulder. "Just think, with photos like this, you could really catch a break."

"I hope so," Peter said with a sigh. It'd been a long day.

Johnny slumped. "I'm starved. C'mon. We're going out eating."

"We're? As in we are?"

"You saved my life, the least I can do is take you out to eat. Besides, I was going to call you anyways. Saving the world just sort of got in the way of doing that."

"Good thing to know that it wasn't a one-time thing," Peter said.

"Anyone who wears Superjamas is all right with me," Johnny said.

And maybe this was how Johnny got his girlfriends, a causal sort of ease. He'd just put his arm over their shoulder–or maybe in their case, waist, and then they'd just melt into him, up until the flame burned itself out.

"Come on, I'll call us a taxi. I know just the place," Johnny said.

And just like all those girls, Peter let himself be lead off on some wild adventure with just a touch to his shoulder, a teasing grin.

*

Some burgers later, Johnny hailed another cab, and they showed up at this older movie theater. 

"You're taking me out to the movies now?" Peter said.

"There's this special which shows a super hero movie marathon. They're showing all of the Spiderman movies now," Johnny said. "After saving the day, it's a good way to unwind."

"You sound like you have a mancrush on him," Peter said with laugh.

"That's what my last girlfriend said before she ditched me for some Lex Luthor type. Actually, last three...make that five. Besides. Don't we all? He's snarky and _mysterious_. He's the bad boy of super heroes."

"I always figured he was some loser nerd who lives at home with his mother–"

"You never know," Johnny said with a grin. "I think it's interesting to watch our lives onscreen. Sue had a fit with the last Fantastic Four movie. It was kind of creepy seeing her be all moany to Reed. I could have lived without seeing that, actually. Even weirder because the actress that played her was hot and dude, _do not want._ The guy they got to play me was _awesome_ though."

"I do admit, he was pretty cool."

Johnny nudged him. "Who's the one with the mancrush now, eh?"

Peter laughed and looked down, his face slightly flushed.

"Spiderman movies bug me, though. Where's his sense of humor? Spiderman is known for being incredibly snarky, and the movie is just all angst, angst angst and Tobey Maguire's smirky face."

And not the biggest part that bugged him–namely, _why didn't he get a share of the profits?_ Also, his supposed origins? Laughable. Which he did. 

"Yeah but the kiss in the rain? Now that's classy. I could watch that scene over and over and never get tired of it. If I didn't hate rain so much, I'd recreate it."

Johnny Storm was totally into Spiderman. 

Spiderman was a lucky bastard.

_Was, was I just jealous of myself? Did I just seriously wish to get Frenched by Johnny Storm?_

Even before the denial hit, Peter knew that the answer was a resounding _yes_.

*

"So, same time next week? There's still Iron Man, Iron Man 2 and the Batman movies to get to. We could even try the Superman movies, if you dare. Those are so bad, I can't help but think that Lex Luthor was the one who was behind them."

"Movies: the other Kryptonite of Superman?" Peter said.

"I'm beginning to think so! Speaking of which, we could watch Batman and Robin," Johnny said.

"I'm starting to think you don't like me," Peter said.

"Uma Thurman is hot, though. If it gets too bad, we could mute it and dub over. It could be the next in-jokes."

"And drink beer and be manly together. Complete with bonding," Peter said.

"Beer? Are you even legal?" Johnny squinted at him. 

_"Yes,"_ Peter said with a laugh. 

"Good to know," Johnny said.

Without even realizing it, Johnny had walked him to his door. Which was, uh. The only words coming to mind were "chivalrous" and "romantic." Peter decided to leave it at 'nice.'

For an awkward—to Peter, at least—moment, they were just there. Peter was reminded of what happened when guys stuck around the doorstep when the date was over.

Not that this was a date. Really.

"So, I'll see you later," Johnny said. He gave this salute-wave-thing and Peter was left on his doorstep. He ran his fingers through his hair and stepped inside.

A cold shower sounded nice right about now.

*

Johnny in his life was becoming downright usual. He'd go out for coffee and find out that Johnny just happened to get coffee there and they'd chat until he'd almost be late for work, then text throughout the day.

He wondered if he could makes Texts From Johnny Storm a thing. Hell, Johnny probably wouldn't even mind, given his habit of mugging for every camera around.

Today after his shift, Johnny was hanging around the entrance, giving a little girl an autograph. In a second, the girl was skipping off, the autograph held close to her chest. Johnny stood up and grinned. 

"Hey, Pete my man!"

"I thought you were busy saving the world," Peter said.

"I just got off. Even super heroes get breaks, you know. Have you ever flown?"

"Trans-America, the wait was insane. Once on one of Tony's personal jets too. Do you know that all his flight attendants wear heat resistant catsuits? It's the mandatory uniform," Peter said.

"Tony Stark is a great man," Johnny said, with mock solemnity. "But what I'm talking about is _really_ flying. With the wind in your face and no equipment."

"Can't say as I have," Peter said with a straight face. Technically, there were lines and webbing. It was more swinging than flying, really. Totally not stretching the truth here.

"Then have I got an outing for you," Johnny said. He handed Peter a bundle of something. 

"Here, change into this. I've got an extra. It'll probably fit you."

"Sure, I'll just have to find somewhere to change.

"What, a phonebooth won't work?" Johnny said.

"One, phonebooths are pretty much extinct these days, and even if I could find one, I don't even want to think about the sorts of things in there, two, they're kind of _visible._ I never got how movie Superman did that. Whoever he really is, he's got to have a better way of changing out of his clothes."

"You know a lot about disguises and crime fighting," Johnny said.

Peter cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. I photograph a lot of super heroes and I've been on some interviews. I've heard some things."

"Ah, no wonder," Johnny said.

"Yeah, I'll just. Find a bathroom and change," Peter said.

Anything to escape the sneaking feeling that he'd just made the flub that revealed it all and Johnny was totally on his tracks now. Thankfully, the place was empty, and he snuck into a stall and changed out. A glance in the mirror as he was coming out, his clothes draped over his arm showed that it was a skintight blue suit with a four on the front.

"Here, don't forget the mask. I figure you might actually need a face. And hair. Unless you think the 'hair-burnt-off' thing is doing it for you, then be my guest." 

"Nah, I'll take it. I don't feel like joining the Hair Club For Men early."

"Really? I bet there's some great deals on toupees," Johnny said. "Though if that project of Reed's ever gets off the ground, male pattern baldness will be a thing of the past. He just has to work the kinks out of it so the hair stops looking like a love child between a Chia pet and a tentacle monster."

"You could call it the Lovecraft 'Do."

"Whoa, brains, beauty _and_ extreme geekiness. How are you still single, my man?"

"Yeah, the girls are just fighting over me all the time, that's totally how my love life goes," Peter said.

Johnny laughed. "You have such a hard time of it. I know, you'll join a club with me."

"At this rate we'll have to call ourselves 'The Fantastic Five'," Peter said. 

"Then we'll start up a band," Johnny said.

Peter pulled the mask over his face. It looked sort of like his Spiderman mask, enough to bring up that churning in his stomach with the anxiousness. The more time he spent with Johnny, the more chance he could be found out. As of now, only two people knew who Spiderman really was, and no one was getting it out of Tony Stark or Cap anytime soon.

Peter had spent so much time hiding and putting up with the bad press that he barely even knew what to do with the idea of having a super hero buddy.

_What Would Johnny Storm Do?_

If Spiderman was involved? Probably flash that charming grin and flirt.

And those were answers that Peter didn't even know what to do with. But before he could go into full out brood, Johnny snapped him out of his reverie.

"Earth to Pete, you still in there? You went blank for a minute."

"Just trying to remember if I left the stove on," Peter said. Sad line, but it still made Johnny smile. It was out and out dark now, the city was cooling down and lighting up.

"Here. Hold on, we're about ready for lift off."

Johnny scooped him up–literal scooping up, damsel-like and all and then it was flame on. The suit kept by the flames, but the heat was still there. You know how in those romance novels his aunt May occasionally read which he seriously never, ever looked at even for curiosity's sake with all the molten hot cores and breathless desire? That's how he felt right now.

It was like holding on to the flaming end of a rocket. Not that he ever had, mind you. He'd never tasted sawdust either, even if he'd proclaimed food to be just like it. They reflected off the glass, this pulsing flare soaring through the air. Peter didn't quite get the full sensation of wind in his face, but could see it really well. Nobody made masks like Reed. Or anything, really. Peter couldn't help but hope he could study the materials in this mask. 

Johnny landed on a building with a sturdy glass top. The glass darkened around him as he let Peter off, and the flames faded into ash.

"You seem pretty comfortable for someone who's afraid of heights," Johnny said.

"I can scream if you'd prefer," Peter said.

"Like a little girl?" Johnny said.

"Sorry, that's Deadpool. Wrong mask," Peter said.

Peter lifted up the mask and looked around. The top of the building was smooth, but his feet kept him perfectly balanced. Spider skills did have their handy moments. Like when having to put up Christmas lights, in the snow, or fighting crime. Or this.

"You can really see the stars up here," Peter said. "They're dazzling."

Johnny leaned in.

Peter looked up at him, questioning. 

Johnny turned away and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's nothing, man."

And they just watched the sky, high up enough that the light and the clouds didn't obscure it. Below everything was bright and beautiful and small and it was such a precious moment that it was all Peter could do to hold onto it.

*

Johnny paced back and forth. Ben, finally back from Alicia's, raised one rocky brow.

"You trying to make designs in that carpet, matchstick?"

"Egh, I can't believe I choked. _I don't choke!_ "

"Don't eat so fast then," Ben said.

"Noooo. The moment was right, it was perfect and then, I just...choked. I could have kissed him right there."

"Was the gender issue an impediment?" Reed said, momentarily looking up from the scientific review he was browsing. 

"I've been with guys before. I've started it and I've kissed them. I haven't choked since I was a teenager. I don't get it."

Sue touched his shoulder. "It sounds like you're in love."

"I'm always in love," Johnny protested.

"That's not love, but infatuation. Did you know that the root word is from the Latin infatuare 'to make foolish'? Also, physical attraction has a fascinating chemical reaction in the brain–" 

"Not now, dear. Save it for the bedroom," Sue said.

"Too much information," Johnny said. " _Way_ too much information."

Sue chuckled. Johnny set back to pacing, and then chewed at his thumbnail.

"Love? Hmmm..." Johnny said. 

"How long has he known this kid? Five minutes?" Ben said.

"The average time of Johnny falling in love is approximately three-point-five minutes," Reed said without looking up from his scientific review. "A whole five minutes shows surprising restraint on his part." 

"I think he's charming," Sue said.

"So, I'm in love with Peter Parker. Good to know. Tomorrow, he is going to be _so_ wooed. Movies won't have anything on how romantic and stuff I'm going to be!" Johnny said.

"Don't you break that boy's heart," Sue said warningly.

"I won't, I won't!" Johnny said.

Sue gave him a pointed glare.

"I hear you, I'm not breaking any hearts. I promise."

*

"Is it one of those super hero clubs?" Peter said warily.

"Actually, it's a nightclub. Kind of exclusive, but not cape exclusive."

The pleather pants were back. Now added with a studded collar. And mesh. Why on Earth did it have to be mesh? Peter kept wanting to try and cover what was showing, only to realize that was kind of the point.

"Can't I put a shirt on under it?" Peter said. 

"That'd defeat the purpose of it," Johnny said.

He fingered Peter's collar. "With the place we're going, I should probably put you on a leash."

"....The only joke I can think involves the word 'bitch'," Peter said.

"Well, if the shoe fits..." Johnny grinned. It was slower, and sexier than his usual fare.

Peter wished his pants weren't so tight.

The bouncer was a man who looked like The Blob's cousin. Except with more muscle. Peter had to wonder if he was related to that Kingpin lookalike mook.

Apparently, Johnny was thinking the same thing as he leaned in to whisper. _He looks like the lovespawn between Kingpin and The Blob._

"Thanks. Now you've officially scarred me for life."

He looked at the list and then fixed his constant glare on Peter.

"Relax, he's with me."

And just like that, he was in. Sure, the guy still looked at Peter like he was a fly in his Chardonnay, but he had a feeling that the guy looked at everyone like that.

People were grinding, and hey, there was She-Hulk dancing like she just didn't care. 

"I don't dance," Peter said.

"Or we could mingle," Johnny said.

"I don't mingle," Peter said.

"What _do_ you do?" Johnny said in exasperation.

"Er, watch Steel Magnolias for the fifty-seventh time with aunt May and have some ice cream? That sounds good right about now." 

"Come on, Pete," Johnny said. "Let's have some fun."

"If you quote Lady Gaga at me, I swear I'm leaving right now," Peter said.

Johnny grinned and leaned in close. "Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...."

"Seriously, stop right now or I'm going to have it stuck in my head all night long."

Johnny grinned. "Challenge accepted. You know, we could just spend all night here."

"So you take me out to a club only to get song lyrics stuck in my hand and force me to wear pleather again? I got out of sweatpants for this?"

"C'mon, Pete. Pleather is good for you. Not as good as spandex, but it'll do in a pinch. It's all part of a balanced great night."

Peter sighed. "If you find a dark place away from everyone, I might be convinced to shake my money maker. Maybe even like a Polaroid picture."

Johnny clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit."

They went through the crowd of grinding people and out to an alley. And hey, this was almost nostalgic.

"We practically met here," Peter said. 

"Aww, you remembered. I'm touched."

Johnny put on some party song which was singing about dying young. 

"I am never going to get it out of my head now," Peter muttered. He swayed from side to side, with his index fingers held up. This was as close as he got to dancing.

Johnny just watched for a long while, and then completely cracked up.

"That, that...that is so awful it circled around into beautiful and sublime." He held up his camera and caught it on film.

Peter stuck his tongue out at him. "Remember, you asked for this. I warned you."

"And I did not imagine it would be this horribly good," Johnny said. He shook his head. "I should show you how it's done."

"Oh, no you don't. When you dance, you literally raise the roof because the whole place is on fire."

"Are you implying that I have a hot ass, Pete?" Johnny said.

"That's just a fact," Peter said.

Johnny raised his eyebrows.

"I mean, when you're on fire and all," Peter said.

Nice save, he mentally told himself.

 

"Speaking of hot. You know what's not hot? The outside. Pleather is not made for cold weather."

"You could come over here and I'd warm you up," Johnny said. "One flame on is all you need."

"Pleather is not flame resistant, either," Peter said.

Johnny crossed his arms. "Okay, nerdboy. Tell me about this Steel Magnolias and staying in thing."

"Only if you promise not to hit on aunt May again," Peter said.

"I promise," Johnny said.

*

Due to a series of circumstances, Peter missed the morning paper that day. Thus, he didn't quite understand that all the office ladies, and a few of the men were giving him this weird stare. Weirder than usual, even.

There was a picture of him in the club, Johnny leaning in to whisper in what must have looked like a nuzzle to people far off. In the picture, looked happy, and blushing just a bit. Johnny had his arm around him – shoulder, not waist.

**Human Torch: Gone Gay? Girls around country in mourning.**

Peter's hands were shaking. _Shaking_. The paper dropped. He opened his cell phone and clicked to the third saved number. 

"Johnny," he said through gritted teeth, "There's a bit of an issue here."

"What's up?"

"Check the morning paper."

There was rustling in the background. He seemed to be just leisurely opening the paper and checking stories at whim. 

"Fifi the very cute dog saves nine from haunted house caper?"

"No, not that one."

"The Cubs win, pigs are set to fly any minute now?"

"Not that one either."

"Ooh, Garfield comic–"

"Try the _front_ page."

"These are nice, but I don't see what you're all worked up abou–" Johnny broke off mid-sentence. "Oh."

"Yeah. That's it," Peter said. He was trying not to hyperventilate now. Focusing on his happy place, like those self-help books went on about. His Happy Place actually was a pretty modest affair. A world where aunt May was never in danger, where he could actually pay his bills, and where he never had movies with Toby Maguire cast as himself. 

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," Johnny said.

Peter let out a long sigh. "All right." 

*

**Breaking News: Human Torch denies relationship with local photojournalist, says that he's 'Saving his heart for Spiderman'**

**Love triangle! Spiderman breaks photojournalist's heart by stealing away Human Torch! Will his Moral Depravity Never Cease?**

*  
Peter had his head in his hands. "Oh, this is a disaster," he said.

"Come on, Pete, it ain't _that_ bad. I'm starting to think you don't like me."

"I like you just fine, but scandals aren't my thing unless I'm covering them," Peter said.

"I, for one approve of him," Reed said. "He knows more about science than all of Johnny's previous girlfriends combined."

"A rock would know more about science than all of his girlfriends combined," Ben said.

"You'd know," Johnny shot back.

"Have you called up the papers?" Sue asked, as she looked over them. 

Johnny was mostly nonplused by the news. He was used to being in the middle of scandal. Of course, this was his first _gay_ scandal, though not his first man by a longshot. 

"Not yet, but I plan to give them a piece of my mind. One issue I do have with this is what's with the me going gay thing? What, one guy and suddenly I’ve been gay all along? What happened to my years with the ladies? Can’t I swing both ways–heh, swing."

"That's the _only_ issue you have with this?" Peter said. "In all this the only thing that bothers you is that they forgot you dated girls?"

"All press is good press as far as I'm considered," Johnny said with a shrug.

Peter laid his head on the Fantastictable. "This is karma. It's karma. I went to the dark side of photojournalism to pay the bills and now I'm getting back what I gave."

Sue stroked his hair in a most motherly fashion. "It's not so bad. I've seen Spiderman get tons worse."

Which was little comfort, considering.

"I don't know how I'm going to face her," Peter said.

"You had a girlfriend all this time?" Johnny said, brow raised. "Not cool."

" _No!_ Aunt May!"

"You know, vehemently denying that you have a girlfriend isn't helping the gay thing. You could drink a few shots to calm your nerves."

"Yes, that's a brilliant idea. Now, not only am I having a torrid gay affair with you, now I'm coming home drunk. Aunt May will be _thrilled._ "

"I could come in and convince her that it's okay?" Johnny said.

"Now, on top of being drunk and being seen in a collar and on your arm....yeah, I don't think so."

"Peter, it's not that bad. I mean, I've seen tons of people in the life get on the tabloids. That being the super hero life, not the gay life, though I've seen enough _Is Archangel Gay?_ articles to last a lifetime, and the only thing keeping Nightwing out of the tabloids is Batman's iron fist of fatherliness," Johnny said.

"Your family won't care if you bring a man home," Peter said. "Aunt May is all I've got. I can't stand to think she'd be disappointed in me."

"Pete..."

"No, it's good. Well, it's not, but...it's better to face the music sooner than later, right?"

Maybe he got his metaphors all muddled, but Peter didn't care. 

"Anyways, thanks for everything, but I gotta get going."

He walked out, and for once, Johnny didn't even follow him or try and blind him with charm. This time he was on his own.

*

"Aunt May, I'm home," he said, a bit nervous. Maybe she'd decided to shun news of all kind, become a nun and no longer talk to her friends. It could happen.

He looked for signs of disapproval in her wizened face, and saw traces–pursed lips, a slight, ladylike narrowing at her eyes. There was a paper on her lap. He caught sight of himself on the front page.

So much for that.

"Aunt May I–It's–"

"You could have told me, you know," she said.

"What? I mean. There's nothing to tell. This whole thing isn't true. Johnny and I are just friends. They took it way out of proportion. There was light issues, and it was photoshopped and–"

Aunt May looked down to the newspaper which she had in her lap. Peter cringed at the photo. It did look pretty damming, especially from that angle. He couldn't exactly call them and tell them 'he was just telling me Lady Gaga lyrics in that sexy voice of his—' yeah. Not happening.

"He just does that sometimes. He was joking with me. It's just one of his things." 

"You know, I can't say as I am surprised. Your Uncle Ben even said that one day you might bring a boy home, but what he really worried was that you might keep him locked away and eat yourself up inside over it."

Peter felt that familiar prickle of pain in his chest when he remembered Uncle Ben. His uncle always knew how best to comfort him and guide him. He couldn't count the number of times he felt confused and just wished his uncle was there to tell him where to go or what to do.

But he wasn't, and that was why Peter fought to make sure that no one else had to go through what he did.

"I want you to know that I support you whatever your choices. Your Uncle Ben always felt the same."

She embraced him. He patted her back and smelled the flowery perfume she always wore. It was the kind they didn't make anymore, that harkened to an older age.

"You should stop lying to yourself, Peter. Look at yourself." She pointed to the picture again. "You look so happy."

He looked at the picture, really looked for the first time without going into a near fainting spell of freakoutitude on what aunt May would think. He couldn't remember the last time before Johnny that he'd really gone out with a friend, especially a friend who could understand how it felt to be a super hero as well. Harry was in a mental hospital there, and his father would always be a wall between them now. MJ was midway through her college degree and barely had time to send back emails before hitting the books again. 

He remembered back to the day there, how the feel of Johnny's breath on his neck had sent a little thrill through him, though he'd barely even admitted it to himself.

"Besides, you'd be a _fool_ to not take what's offered. If I were forty years younger, I'd go after him myself." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. 

"Aunt May!" Peter said. That was a mental image he didn't need to have.

She laughed. "If anyone bothers you, just tell me. I'll give them a talking to."

And she gave a pretty fierce talking to, all things considered.

Then again, everyone could use aunt May sticking up for them. Especially Spiderman.

*

It wasn't so much that he meant to ignore Johnny and deal with this thing between them, it was just that you didn't get weekends off as a super hero. You didn't get benefits, or vacations, either. Plus, Peter kind of needed to sort things out, and it was hard to really have some time to think when you were busy fighting or listening to Jameson scream some more.

Sure they could've texted, but every time Peter opened his phone to call, he felt a loss for words. Which was weird, because around Johnny he'd never felt anything near a loss for words. Get them around each other and they'd yack for hours, with at least seventy percent banter. 

Anyways, speaking of super heroing, two streets away from his home, large flames whipped up. The minute the news came, Peter gave an excuse and ran out for an 'errand' and put his new flameproof suit on. He kept telling himself that _borrowing_ Mr. Fantastic's formula to fix up his suit wasn't that bad. It wasn't like he was going to _sell_ the formula–it just meant that next time The Phoenix went berserk or the occasional errant flamethrower it would be nice to have. Then he'd transcribed those lab photographs from the Fantasticave with limited resources and produced something that would hopefully be similar.

Here was hoping it worked, otherwise he'd be toast. Toast of the burnt variety, that was.

He leapt through the night, shooting webs from building to building. He perched on a rooftop and watched the people gathered–there were no firemen to be seen.

He caught a thread and swung down, only to find he wasn't the only super hero on the block. Johnny was there in full flame mode floating above the window.

"A fire? It must be a job for the _fireman_."

"That joke was the worst one yet," Spiderman said.

"Hey, Spiderman! Nice seeing you around here." Human Torch said.

"You'll have to excuse the lack of a fist-bump, I'm saving lives and all," he replied.

"No problem. I'm here to help. Sue, Reed and Ben are on their way too. No mountain too high, or small or whatever."

"Just a sec."

Spiderman had a bawling, soot-stained little girl in his arms. He shot through the air, and caught a tree in his web, and then spun around to put her safely in the arms of a real fireman. A few more acrobatic moves and he was right up there again.

"That was amazing. You're really flexible."

"That isn't the half of it, but I'll take a raincheck. There's more in there. A boy, I think. I don't know. I couldn't tell what the father was saying, he was out of it."

"Can you get there in that heat?" Johnny said.

"I got an upgrade recently," he said.

"It'd probably be best if you didn't fry the kids, so just check through the house and watch my back, will you?"

"Can do," the Human Torch said.

It might have kept his skin from third-degree burns, but it certainly wasn't comfortable. Sweat dripped down his back, his neck, lined his suit. He pushed on, hearing the crackle of flames around him and behind him. It was claustrophobic, with the beams of the ceiling ready to cave into an avalanche of flames at any minute.

There something falling towards him. a Ficus tree? Someone was a botanist. Before he could even move out of the way, the tree was nothing but ash.

"I got it covered."

Spiderman pushed on through. He could hear them crying, but was there enough time? Smoke obscured the room. The cries got louder, until he found the source. A little boy was hiding under the bed.

"I'm here to help you," he said.

"No. Spiderman is scary," he said. He pulled back.

"C'mon kid. Do it for the Human Torch? Spiderman and I are tight."

It was questionable how much the kids were going to idolize him, given the gay debacle put him somewhere around the status of super villain for some parents, but maybe this one was too young to understand. The boy took Spiderman's hand, and he pulled the kid to the safety of his arms.

In th movies, this is where the leisurely walk set to dramatic music would go. This was not the movies. He hurried as the kid began to cry, up and outside.

He looked around quickly. There had to be more in here. The sweat dripped into his eyes, nearly blinding him. Lightheaded and woozy, he kept stepping forward.

He really needed to add an oxygen mask to his suit.

"Don't worry, man. Sue got them out," Johnny said.

Suddenly Peter felt up to his eye. Everything was looking a lot brighter there. He felt skin. He vaguely remembered scraping his face on the window. He looked up to see a cut out where a white eye would have been.

Johnny stared at him a moment. And then, Spiderman fled into the night.

"Hey, Spidey! You there?"

Spiderman skulked a little deeper in the dark. Eventually he heard the crackling flames fade.

*

**Hunk-a-Hunk Of Burning Love! Spiderman and Human Torch Team Up To Save Children From Fire. What's Next For Our Flaming Duo? Find Out More In Out Magazine!**

**Human Torch Saves Children From Fire, Spiderman's Reign Of Terror To Continue With Arson?**

*  
Johnny came into Reed's laboratory still smelling of smoke. He held tight to the scrap of material.

"Any chance you can analyze this?"

"Of course." 

Reed pushed up his goggles and studied it. He placed it beneath some fancy equipment. The defibulatermajigg or something. Lights flashed. There was bleeping and blooping and something else. To Reed it all made perfect sense, but it was all R2D2 to Johnny.

"Is this going to take long? If so, I'll go get a magazine," Johnny said.

"A minute, tops. Ah, there is is," Reed said as he lifted up the new details.

Reed frowned, confused. "That can't be right."

"What? What can't be right?" 

"This formula is almost identical to my own."

"Do you think the system got hacked? Could Dr. Doom be selling it on the black market?" Johnny said.

"I wrote this formula on my own on notebook during a lunch break last month. I haven't encoded it yet and had only made some preliminary tests. There's no way. Well, no way that doesn't involve Skrulls."

Reed tapped his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment, and then took another look at the results.

"Actually... that's not right. I mentioned it to someone: That boy you brought over. Peter Parker, was it? He was interested in my work and we got to talking about it. It wasn't complete then, but..."

"Peter? What are you saying?"

"What he's saying, matchstick, is that Peter read the plans of a spaceship once and recreated it in his garage from dental floss, a tin can and some glitter glue," Ben said. He stepped out from the doorway, his massive rocky hands on his hips.

"Actually..in not so many words, yes. That's what I was saying. The components are more base, less refined, a little coarse, but it does work. I must say I'm impressed. I've been trying to get this to work for months and it's always rejected the molecules. Combining it in this order is some sort of genius," Reed said. He adjusted the thingamabob machine to study the piece of close more closely.

"It's very possible that Peter Parker has a deal with Spiderman. He sold my formula to him possible in return for being able to shoot photographs, or they're both splitting the profits," Reed said.

"That doesn't make any sense, Peter is seriously poor. We're talking 'always one step away from being evicted' poor. Besides, if he was going to sell it to someone, why not Tony Stark who would actually get him money? Or some super villain?"

Johnny stopped as memories came to him, fast, images and scenes and moments they'd spent together. "Unless...."

"Unless?" Reed asked.

"Peter Parker _is_ Spiderman," Johnny said.

"Well, I suppose it's _possible_ ," Reed began. "Most anyone could be Spiderman. Provided they were male and not already another super hero."

"No, I think this could be it. I met him at the bank once. He was nervous right before it was going to get robbed, like he knew. Then he pushed me down, and it was hot."

"Too much information," Ben said.

"He was a really good fighter too–I even joked about him fighting crime with us. Well, actually I was serious. But it was said in a joking way. He's snarky, and Spiderman is snarky. He's the one who's always getting photographs of Spiderman. And he kept on going how the Spiderman movies weren't realistic at all...not to mention that he says Spiderman lives in his neighborhood."

"It would be a brilliant disguise," Reed said. He took off his goggles and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Clark Kent, eat your heart out," Johnny said.

*

Peter was just about to finish his night watch before he actually called it a night, because while evil might not have slept, he sure had to. Besides, the night usually belonged to the Bats, and Peter always had this sinking feeling that Big Batdaddy knew who he was and did not forget the time he tried to photograph Nightwing.

Sure, they were technically Gotham property, but everyone knew Gotham had the worst nightclubs around, and wild Nightwings needed nightclubs as a natural habitat. Besides, even super heroes who were east coast or west cost or wherever cost would meet up on jobs. It was just one of the joys of being a super hero.

Three minutes until midnight, and not a peep. Well, he hoped aunt May wasn't staying up on his account. 

Just as he was about to pack up, a voice came from the darkness.

"You forgot something, Spiderman."

Johnny came out, gleaming and flaming, a torch in the darkness. He held up the cloth eye that had ripped off. Peter was hanging upside down, a sticky thread attacked to some dirty building up there. 

"How perfect," Johnny said. "Just like the movie. Except no rain. I hate rain anyways."

"Me too," Peter said.

Johnny rolled up the mask just enough to reveal his lips and pushed close to Peter. Johnny held to his cheeks and kissed with such passion that it felt like he might lose his balance and fall face first into the pavement. It was the kind of kiss he'd never had—one the seemed to go all through his body and leave his mind numb, a real cinematic dream of a moment.

"That is a lot harder to do than it looks in the movies," Johnny said.

"You're telling me," Peter said.

"You didn't even text me," Johnny said. "That's pretty harsh."

"Yeah...I'm sorry. I needed some time to think, and then there were fires, and muggings, and a nefarious plot or two," Peter said.

Johnny shook his head. "I was dying to text you constantly, but Sue was so adamant that you needed space that she confiscated my phone."

"Then how would you know I didn't leave any messages?" Peter said.

"I bugged her constantly about it," Johnny said.

Johnny rolled the mask the rest of the way off. Peter smiled back, the traces of Spiderman slipping away until it was just Peter Parker, nerdy photojournalist recently on the dark side who happened to live with his aunt in the dinkiest house in the Queens. Peter smiled a little awkwardly, a little apologetically.

"You don't seem too surprised," Peter said.

"Reed theorized it once I brought him the scrap of cloth from your mask. That formula was brand new and he hadn't mentioned it to anyone before he talked with you. It just so happened to coincide with you being a sort of authority on all things Spiderman. So I put two and two together."

"I was just borrowing it for emergencies. Like irritated super heroes wrecking my camera," Peter said.

"I know you wouldn't do it, I always trusted in you. Reed was impressed. Seriously impressed that you were able to manage it just by mention alone. I think he wants to adopt you or marry you off to one of his children. But, he'll have to just settle for having you in the family otherwise."

Peter looked out at the street to hide the fact that he was blushing. _Blushing_ at Johnny's flirtation. Oh, man. He was a goner, the minute Johnny laid eyes on him with that devil may care grin and those damn dimples.

"Were you angry?" Peter said.

"Angry? Why would I be angry? I'm _stoked_. I get my longstanding mancrush and the guy I'm head over heels for all in one. Here I was thinking there was going to have to be love triangles or threesomes involved."

"We can fight crime together now," Peter said with a lopsided grin.

"We can do a lot more than that together," Johnny said. He peeled off the rest of the mask and ran his fingers through Peter's hair. "But no more of this bad boyfriend stuff. If you have to save the world, just let me know. Hell, I'll even help you save it, and then we can go out for cheese fries again. Deal?" 

"Deal," Peter said.

*

**Johnny Storm Gives Interview About His Steamy Romance With Spiderman. Read It All In This Edition of Out Magazine.**

**Spiderman Brings The Human Torch To The Dark Side. Fire And Brimstone Predicted by one D. Doom. Stay Tuned For More Tales Of Spiderman's Nefarious Evil Plans In The Next Edition Of The Daily Bugle**


End file.
